


summer fun, just begun

by deathsbinky



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: F/F, I mention tommy seymour, anne loves shitty meme songs and the beatles, background kitty/anna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25517149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsbinky/pseuds/deathsbinky
Summary: Catalina and Anne are camp counsellors together. Anne, predictably, takes it a lot less seriously than Catalina. They come to an accord regardless.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine of Aragon
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	summer fun, just begun

“Okay!” Jane says, clapping once. “I’m Jane, and I’m your head co-counsellor. This,” she gestures at the woman next to her, “is Catalina! The other head co-counsellor.” 

Catalina, used to Jane’s monologue, gazes out onto the counsellors like a general overseeing her army. She says, “Co-head counsellor,” and nods once, which Jane takes as a cue to continue. 

“Either way,” Jane says, voice still full of enthusiasm. “We’ll be in charge of keeping these next months at Camp Dawnsong exciting and, very critically, safe!” 

Catalina, having heard this before, tunes it out immediately. There’s a good twenty of the counsellors assembled and listening. Some are familiar campers-turned-counsellors, like Catherine Parr, who catches Catalina’s eye and waves, while others, like the two girls with dyed hair by the back, are obviously new. The one with pink hair has pulled it into a tight ponytail that she plays with the ends of and her friend with green hair shifts her weight from one foot to the other constantly. Not good listeners, Catalina makes a note. Another woman near the front draws Catalina’s attention with a blatant yawn- a blatant yawn!- at only nine in the morning. She’s wearing a red shirt with “Get Down!!!!” on it. There would be no “getting down” at Catalina’s camp, whatever that meant. 

At least Catherine Parr was an attentive rule-follower, Catalina thought. She remembered when Catherine first started coming to camp. She was a counsellor in training and Catherine was eleven, the young girl preferring to sit in the woods with a book than hit other girls with sticks like much of her camp-mates. Catalina would rescue spiders from out of her bunk and sit with her at meals. 

“... and that’s why we don’t allow girls to play hide and seek in the field without warning them to stay out of the tall grass,” Jane finishes. “We thought we found all the ticks on her legs, but you never know! Any questions?” 

The woman with the red shirt raises her hand and, at Jane’s prompting, asks with a heavy German accent, “We will be getting refreshment soon, yes?” 

“What’s your name?” Jane asks in return. 

“Anna,” Anna replies. “We will be getting refreshment?” 

“No, Anna, not before we do at least an hour of team building!” Jane says. 

A groan arises from the counsellors, which Jane ignores. 

“Any questions about our safety protocols specifically,” she stresses. 

“Which plants do we eat instead of starving to death?” shouts the green-haired one in the back. 

“Hopefully not the poison oak,” Jane says. “Because that will kill you. Another thing to remind the girls- leaves of three, let them be!” 

The counsellors split up into smaller groups. Jane has pre-assigned these groups for “maximum fun” and makes her and Catalina join the group that looks the surliest. Unsurprisingly, this is the group with the green girl and Anna, though poor Catherine Parr has been roped into all of this. 

“We’re going to play name games,” Jane explains, “though I’m going to pop out a bit to make sure that the other groups understand the rules. So take it away, Catalina.” Jane then leaves Catalina to her fate. 

“Hello. Tell me your names but with an animal in front. I am Cobra Catalina.” She then turns to Catherine Parr next to her. 

Catherine waves. “I’m Cat Catherine.” 

“Ant Anna,” Anna says. 

“Alligator Anne,” the green one says, bouncing up and down. 

“Kitty Kitty.” 

Catalina can’t tell if Kitty- if that is her name- is being serious. 

“That really is her name,” Anne defends. “You already have a Catherine anyway.” 

Catalina sighs. “Pick a different animal, Kitty.” 

Kitty shrugs. “Kameleon Kitty?” 

“Is that with a K?” Anna asks. “I did not know.” 

“I don’t know either,” Kitty says. 

They fall into silence, listening to the other groups chatter away. The sky is open and blue above them, the beginning of summer filling the world with freshness. Catalina loves coming back to camp, for all that she doesn’t like the people in it. The pines are strong and tall, the mountains spread out in every direction, and the air is clean. The clearing to the left of the main building, the one they’re in front of, is the length of a football field and in a week it’ll be full of young girls shouting. For now, though, the crabgrass is untrampled and has yet to twist ankles with the deceptive amount of holes hiding beneath it. 

“Is it true they have horses here?” Anne asks, now holding hands with Kitty. 

Catalina shakes her head. “After it was a ranch, some of the older horses stayed on with us until they passed, but they’re all gone now.” 

“That’s so sad,” Kitty says. “This is where horses should be: the woods.” 

“You should get horses,” Anne says. 

“We’re not getting horses. Do you know how much horses cost?” 

Anne pulls a face. “If I knew how much horses cost do you think I’d be working here? It smells like dirt. We’re standing on dead leaves.” 

“Nobody’s forcing you at gunpoint,” Catalina says. “Some people think nature is of value.” 

“Some people think that Quentin Tarantino is a genius,” Anne says. “Doesn’t make them correct.” 

Catalina has no idea who Quentin Tarantino is and chooses to ignore that part entirely. “Seeing as this camp is giving you room and board for the next months, you could show some respect to your surroundings.” 

“What else am I going to do, walk down the mountain and back to Santa Cruz?” 

Catalina purses her lips. “It could be arranged.” 

“Don’t be an asshole,” Anne says, stepping closer to Catalina. 

“Said that to a mirror lately, you little gnat?” Catalina responds, looking down at Anne.

They’re making furious eye contact, Anne opening her mouth to reply, when Jane bursts in between them. 

“Let’s calm down,” Jane suggests, “And it’s time to switch groups.” 

Catalina, at Jane’s gentle urging, stalks off to form a different group. 

Apparently Catalina and Anne are to be “partners in counselling crime”- Anne’s words- supervising the pre-teens. This isn’t the worst group to get in Catalina’s opinion, but Anne certainly doesn’t sweeten the deal. They’ll be sharing a cabin and spending far too much time together, which will obviously never appeal to either of them. 

Catalina is unpacking in silence with Anne. Catalina primarily brought the essentials: sleeping bag with red flannel inside, flashlight, extra flashlight batteries, and a swiss army knife. For fun, she has _Way of Kings_ to read. 

Anne, on the other hand, has brought a guitar with a green strap, five different nail polishes, at entire makeup bag, and various stuffed animals. Her clothes are in two open duffel bags shoved under the bed’s metal frame. 

“So,” Anne says, sitting cross-legged on her pink sleeping bag, “What does being an ‘Astronomy Owl’ consist of?” 

“Did you read the information Jane gave you?” Catalina asks. 

Anne has a cheeky smile. “Figured you’d fill me in.” 

“‘Astronomy Owl’ basically means that we stay up later and get to skip breakfast sometimes. Everything else is the same. Archery, ropes course, hikes. Read the binder,” Catalina says, in the spirit of getting Anne to do her job by whatever means necessary. “Better this than the Mountaineers.” 

“Mountaineers?” 

“They’re the oldest girls. They stay up the mountain a bit in a separate campsite, make their own beds, cook for themselves sometimes,” Catalina explains. 

“Aw yeah, that’s where Kitty and Anna are.” Anne laughs. “Is it a rough gig?” 

“It’s twenty teen girls stuck together in the mountains. I did it two years ago and they had to have a different fight every day with a different girl crying about it.” 

Anne surmises, “So that’s why we’re not allowed to bring knives.” 

“Not the campers, anyway.” 

“Lord of the flies for chicks,” Anne says. “I’ll have to warn Kitty.” 

Catalina hums. 

“They do come down, though?” Anne asks with veiled concern. 

Clearly they were close. They didn’t look related and they had different last names on their binders, so Catalina assumed best friends or girlfriends. 

“You’ll see her plenty,” Catalina says, and so Anne, having got the information she needs, bounds out of the cabin. 

Maybe this won’t be the worst thing in the entire world, Catalina thinks. 

  
Young Joan D’Arc raises her stick to the sky and screams, bringing it down on the stick-wielding arm of Aethel Flair. Aethel, in response, punches Joan in the ribs, unbalancing her so that they tumbled into the dirt. 

Anne laughs. “Nothing below the belt!” she cries. “Keep off of the pit area!” 

Catalina comes around the bend in the road and gasps. She’s returning from escorting four girls to the health center for medicine. 

“Anne!” she shouts. 

The woman in question turns around. “What?” 

“Joan,” Catalina commands, “Get off of Aethel.” 

Aethel and Joan roll off each other. They lay in the dirt, panting, and then reach over and hold hands. 

“Anne,” Catalina says. 

“I told them to stay away from the pit area,” Anne says, “Like you told me.” 

Catalina presses her hands to her temples. “Why are they fighting?” 

“We were playing knights while you were gone,” Joan says. 

“I would’ve won,” Aethel says. 

They’re at the ropes course on their dedicated afternoon of the week doing something involving climbing very high and “challenge by choice,” a phrase invented by Jane so that children could theoretically back out with dignity. Children, however, are not beings naturally filled with goodwill. 

This is evidenced by Marie Lark and Eleanor Aquitaine laughing at Ende Garcia and Theresa Avila for not wanting to participate. 

“You’re babies,” Eleanor says, scornful. Her arms are crossed and her helmet, a bit too large for her head, leans precariously over her eyebrows. 

“I’m not a baby!” Theresa argues, “I know sex stuff.” 

Catherina steps in between them. “Neither of you are babies. It’s okay to not want to participate,” she says to Theresa and Ende, then addresses Marie and Eleanor: “But it’s not okay to make fun of your peers.” 

“Yeah dudes, you’re like, eleven. Go get in line,” Anne says, and Marie and Eleanor shuffle off, giving Theresa and Ende dirty looks. Anne looks at Theresa. “Who is telling you about sex stuff?” 

Theresa gazes up at them with her big brown eyes. “Jesus. He comes to me in my sleep.” 

“Cool,” Anne replies, eyebrows to the sky. “Cool cool cool.” 

“Why don’t you girls go sit on the tarp,” Catalina suggests. 

“That’s fucking weird,” Anne says to Catalina. 

“Don’t say the f-word,” Catalina scolds. 

Anne leans in close and whispers: “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” 

She then flounces off, leaving Catalina with the dark intensity of her eyes as she swore and her vanilla-scented lotion. 

Anne’s enthusiasm makes the girls even more excitable, and she’s not afraid to fail- though she rarely does, when it comes to competitions. Catalina has seen Anne trick Kitty out of her share dessert more than once with some foolhardy bet. This is why archery is Catalina’s least favorite activity. While she’s content to watch, Anne likes to shoot off a few arrows, accentuating her strong arms and long fingers, or at least coach the girls through it. 

Right now Anne’s fixing Theresa’s aim so that Theresa could hopefully shoot her target and not the one to her right. 

“There you go,” Anne says after lowering Theresa’s elbow, “Try that.” 

Theresa lets go and hits the blue ring. “Nice.” She beams up at Anne. 

Anne puffs out her chest. “I’m pretty cool, yeah.” 

There’s a pause as Theresa shoots another arrow into the ring outside her first. 

“I mean look, you could’ve done it without me,” Anne says. “Keep going.” She draws her own bow and goes off to fire. 

Catalina realizes her gaze has lingered a bit too long on Anne and snaps it to her feet before Anne can notice. Attractiveness does not make her less annoying, Catalina reminds herself. After all, it was only yesterday night that she was pretending to fall into the fire pit while the coals were still hot. And then she accidentally landed on an ember and burnt a hole through her sweatshirt, which Catalina closed the next day so that Anne wouldn’t be cold. 

Catalina is taking kids to the nurse for dinner medication when she runs into Jane. Both of them step out onto the porch to chat. 

“How’s it going?” Jane asks. 

“Great, you know,” Catalina replies. “Loving the Astronomy Owls.” 

“I’m having so much fun with the Ranger Ritas,” Jane says, bursting with excitement. “We’re going all up and down the mountains- we saw a family of deer yesterday! And Cathy is so good at using the compass.” 

“I knew you and Parr would get along,” Catalina says. “Any of the girls run into the troublesome plants yet?” 

Jane shudders. “I try to keep them on the path, but sometimes, you know, a girl sees a bunny and gets excited, or wanders off…” 

“Give me a number,” Catalina presses, unable to contain her amusement. “How in line are they?” 

“Cathy and I try,” Jane says, then buckles under Catalina’s knowing gaze. “About half. Most of those are curious, but some of them, I swear, go looking for poison oak.” 

“You’re going to run out of lotion before the summer’s out,” Catalina says. 

Jane waves it off. “I’ll drive down to town if it’s that bad. What I want to know is how you and Anne are getting along.” 

Catalina leans against the railing, closer to Jane, and says quietly, “Not as much as Anna and Kitty- I saw them making out behind a tree before dinner.” 

“Yes,” Jane says, “Anna asked me if it was okay, and of course I said as long as they didn’t go, you know, too far.” 

“You want me to reprimand them?” Catalina asks. “It’s your call, but- say the word.” Two summers ago a counsellor had gotten into a relationship with Archery Edward, the only man in the camp, and Catalina had made her cry. 

“Not unless they-” Jane breaks off, blushing. 

Catalina picks up the thread. “You think they would have sex in a hammock?” 

Jane frowns. “I genuinely do not know.” 

“Hopefully the teenagers deter them,” Catalina says, “If anything.” 

“And Anne?” Jane repeats. 

Catalina shakes her head. “We’re not going to be making out. We are colleagues, and she’s not my type.” 

“No?” Jane pretends to think, tapping her chin. “Funny? Charming? Attractive?” 

“What, do you want to date her?” Catalina asks, smirking. “Sounds more like it.” 

Thankfully, her kids come out of the Nurse’s office and Catalina gets to leave with the last word. 

“And here,” Anne raises her hand, guitar pick held high, “Is ‘Wonderwall.’” 

She brings her hand down to strum furiously, swaying dramatically back and forth. The girls, sitting around the campfire before they stargaze, prepare to shout the words. Catalina brings her hand to her head. 

“Anne. Anne. Anne,” Catalina raises her voice until Anne stops, “Can we pick a different song?” 

“I can play this, or I can play Radiohead’s ‘Creep’,” Anne says. 

Joan raises her hand and asks, “Why’re those the only ones you know?” 

“Very long story involving my rotten ex boyfriend and annoying him so much that he never looked at Kitty ever again,” Anne says. “Let’s hear ‘Creep.’” 

Catalina sighs. 

It is burningly, oppressively hot and they’re having relaxation hours before lunch. Most of the girls are in their cabins, but some of them are sitting around Anne’s bunk on the wooden floor as she and Kitty paint each other’s nails. The other nail polishes are distributed to the girls on the floor; they’re painting their fingernails but also mostly their hands. Catalina asked if Anna knew Kitty was here, to which Kitty assured her that Anna was totally cool monitoring the Mountaineers as they did the agility course. Catalina knows some type of bribery is involved there.

“...and then Tommy Seymour, who, you know, is like that guy out here starting those countdowns for Disney stars turning eighteen, is like, ‘Cathy, go out with me,’ you know, totally leaning in, and Cathy- this is Cathy Parr- is like, ‘whoa, pump the breaks,’ ‘cause he only hit her up once when he was blasted at this party, so I’m like, ‘hit the road, buckaroo, no means no,’ and then wham bam, she recommended me for this job since I’m a regular Wonder Woman,” Anne explains to the enraptured campers, unencumbered hand gesturing wildly and doing voices for all the people she mentions. 

Thomas Seymour is Jane’s cousin; he must go to school in LA with Cathy and, it seems, Anna and Kitty. Catalina met him once but he was nothing if not a pervert. 

Hilda Whitby paints a clumsy blue stripe across Ende’s thumb. “Whoa.” 

Kitty nods. “And then she got me this job too, so like, double savior.” 

“Super heroic,” Joan adds, beaming up at Anne. Aethel, sloppily covering most of Joan’s fingertips, sticks out her tongue as she finishes the left thumb, only to be thrown by Joan’s enthusiastic wiggling. “Don’t you think that’s knightly, Aethel?” she asks. 

“I’ve heard better,” Aethel says dismissively. 

Joan rears back as if to headbutt but is stopped by Catalina’s warning. She slouches down and glares instead. 

“What does blasted mean?” Theresa asks. 

Before Catalina knows it, she is simply full to the brim of facts about Anne: her passion for music, her competitions with her older brother and sister, and her many travels to France, which is how she became fluent. There’s a delight in hearing Anne’s french, though she does have the unrepentantly American trait of singing it sometimes. The girls will point to anything and Anne can provide the word for it, except for ‘squirrel’, which eludes her. Catalina’s Spanish- though far more useful in California- is not as exciting, though they do make a game out of pointing at objects and seeing how similar the Romance languages truly are. Ende, who knows Spanish, and Eleanor and Marie who know French, play along.

Hiking is an excellent exercise that strengthens the body and allows a healthy appreciation of nature. It’s after dinner, but the summer sun lingers, creating long shadows that keep the trails cool. The California redwoods are huge and thick, with bases of baby trees reaching out and grab at you. Birds and insects chirp away in the branches high above them. 

Catalina is leading the pack while Anne is supposed to be keeping the stragglers from getting too far behind. The dirt is kicking up respite the gravel put down on the wide trail, so Catalina pulls over by a bend in the road with some large rocks to sit on. It’s important to keep the group together, and she wants the kids to hydrate too. 

Soon enough, Anne walks up with the rest of the campers. They swarm around her in a haze of half-hero worship, half-detest for movement. She’s in short shorts and a tank top, and Catalina can’t help but notice her dancer’s legs. Catalina averts her eyes, only to end up watching Joan and Aethel kick dirt at each other. The dust catches the sunbeams, illuminating the particles and making a strangely charming scene. She tells them to quit it regardless. 

Anne sighs and sits next to Catalina, stretching out her legs. “Ugh, this hiking stuff is killing me.” 

“You appear to be perfectly healthy to me,” Catalina says, pointing herself away from Anne. “Hey,” she shouts at Marie Lark, “Stop pushing!” 

“The dudes are just having fun,” Anne says. “Chickens are healthier free-range.” 

“Are you suggesting children and chickens are similar?” Catalina deadpans. 

“Both come from eggs. Behold, a man!” Anne flings her arms out, coming close to smacking Catalina in the face. 

They watch the girls. Joan is lying down and pretending to be dead, as Eleanor reads out her last rights and Aethel pokes her with a stick. Theresa, Julian Norwich, and some other girls work on friendship bracelets. Hilda and Ende draw in the two opposing pages of Ende’s notebook. Catherine Pizan and Margery Kempe play checkers with pebbles and sticks. 

“It’s a great afternoon though,” Anne said softly, smiling. “Awful gorgeous outside, even if, blech, nature.” 

It’s rare to see Anne so still, Catalina thinks. Her face is calm and her lips are upturned. She’s tied her hair up, emphasizing her long neck and inexplicably perfect shoulders; her arms are as toned as her legs. She’s magnetic. 

Late at night, Catalina comes across Anne playing her guitar by the campfire. It’s a couple notes of “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles- instantly recognizable, and one of Catalina’s favorites. 

“You can play something other than ‘Wonderwall’,” Catalina accuses without malice. 

Anne laughs. “You caught me, yeah. Eleanor and me had a bet that I couldn’t play it all night without you saying anything.” 

“What did she win for me noticing?” 

“Oh, I was on your side,” Anne says, “Eleanor agreed to go easier on the other kids.” 

“And Marie?” Catalina can feel the beginnings of a smile tug at her lips. 

“Doesn’t make bets she can’t win,” Anne says. 

Catalina sits down next to Anne. “Keep playing,” she urges. 

Anne continues to pluck out the notes and Catalina leans up and looks at the stars. They’re framed by the complete black of the tops of the trees, breaking through in uneven but starlike patches. This is why she comes back to Dawnsong every summer. In San Jose, she can’t hardly make out the constellations, much less the amount she can see now. The Rose Garden is beautiful but curated: carefully trimmed rolling lawns and ever-elegant selections of roses. A natural solace in a suburban sprawl.

Anne stops playing “Here Comes the Sun” and transitions, only a little awkwardly, into “Blackbird.” 

“Do you really not like it here?” Catalina finds herself asking. 

There’s a fragile silence, Anne’s fingers pausing on the guitar strings. 

“I, ah… not at first,” Anne admits, then shrugs. “It’s grown on me, though.” 

Her and Catalina smile at each other. 

“It’s always been a solace to me,” Catalina says. “I had just gotten out of a bad breakup when Jane hired me, and getting away from that…” 

Anne nods. “I understand.” 

They sit together, listening to Anne gently play the guitar, accompanied by crickets and the breeze rustling the trees. Catalina can feel the warmth of Anne’s thigh next to her own. She staves of the drowsiness to sit there for a little while longer. 

Anne comes to the end of “Blackbird” and shifts her guitar to her side. The crickets and the frogs seem to pause, suspended, as Anne moves to capture Catalina’s lips with her own. She catches the edge of Catalina’s mouth, but Catalina moves closer to Anne, pressing into the kiss, moving her hand up to cup Anne’s jaw. It sends an electric pulse straight to her heart. Anne pulls Catalina closer by the waist, crushing them together on the fire pit bench. 

They stop kissing when Anne is smiling too hard to properly kiss anymore and Catalina needs air, but they keep their foreheads together. Anne’s chapstick tastes like strawberries, Catalina thinks, dazed. She’s so magical. 

“I’ve wanted to do that all summer,” Anne admits. 

Catalina kisses her again. 

“I thought you were so annoying,” Catalina says. 

Anne laughs. “I know,” she says, “I won you over though, didn’t I?” 

“Oh, please,” Catalina says, and kisses her to shut her up.

**Author's Note:**

> all of the campers are famous medieval women because what am I going to do? make up real people and shit?


End file.
